


Spitfyre

by Smooth_Real_Cha_Cha



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Dystopia, LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV Original Character, Psychological Horror, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smooth_Real_Cha_Cha/pseuds/Smooth_Real_Cha_Cha
Summary: Imagine one morning-- waking up without any knowledge of who you were, where you came from, or why you exist. A fourteen-year old girl wakes up in the middle of a secret covert military facility; with no knowledge of who she is, or what she has experienced. The only things she knows about herself is her name, Anya, gifted back to her by the strange, brutal, white-haired girl who rescues her. The girl, Kai, saves her from the facility, but remains behind, and Anya's only link to her forgotten past lies out of reach. Thrust into the world outside of the facility, Anya must adapt to a world she has never been a part of, while puzzling the broken pieces of the life she does not remember.





	Spitfyre

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my wonderful beta reader Lilie, or Yikes_03 on AO3, for putting up with my incessant rambling about my OC's. You are truly a national treasure.  
> This story has sat in my head for around three-quarters of a year, and now I'm hopefully putting ink to proverbial paper and actually writing it. I'm so exicited!

Prologue: Dorothy

Dorothy had always liked to believe she was good at understanding people. A simple gesture of introduction, a friendly exchange of pleasantries, or a cheeky bribe of homemade whatever-Pops-had-left-in the fridge always seemed to calm even the most threatening of foes. She had navigated her way through conversation after conversation like a sea-weathered captain on the open ocean, with confidence and a healthy amount of swearing. Of course, the military was different; her  _ unusual  _ reassignment in the last quarter of her tour even more so. Military life had made Dorothy anxious; a novel prospect for her. Despite that, if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was how to make friends.

But the mystery of the white-haired girl she was guarding; the way her mannerisms switched and spasmed between every phase, ever-changing and wholly captivating; led Dorothy to reconsider her long-held belief, if only for a second. It wasn’t that the girl wasn’t a talker; quite the opposite. Prisoner number Y-18 never seemed to stop trying to grab Dorothy’s attention; bellowing and marching around, trying to swat Dorothy’s leg through the bar whenever the soldier ignored her, commanding in her childish, sing-song tone. Personally, Dorothy thought the girl was probably insane. 

But for some reason, Dorothy couldn’t ignore her.

Maybe it was simply curiosity. Dorothy didn’t understand her reassignment; when she was pulled from her unit and told to immediately report to the experimental airborne military base.

“It’s codenamed Project Spitfire.” one of the people in her regiment had told her. “Another soldier I was touring with got sent there a while ago. It’s apparently mums-the-word on anything that goes on there, but hey! Congrats! You have a much less likely chance of getting shot.”

Dorothy had been relieved when she had gotten the news; just glad to get away from the fighting and happy to be reassigned to some cushy guard post keeping half-dead scientists from passing out in the middle of their labs. What she hadn’t expected was-- well, everything about Project Spitfire.

Specifically being handed a file on a 16-year-old and being told she was responsible for at least 14 counts of serial murder, and also to not let the girl, under any circumstances, touch any part of Dorothy’s skin. When Dorothy had asked why, she had simply been told to follow orders to the letter. “Under threat of death.” They had told her. 

She also hadn’t expected to see one of her fellow guards be shot in the head by the lead scientist for refusing to restrain a crying 11-year-old; and she certainly hadn’t expected to find out that whatever was being studied in the Project required  _ human lab rats _ .

All of this led Dorothy to count the days aimlessly, marking the small calendar she had hung over her bunk in the guard’s barracks. Tyler and Pops would be waiting for her when she got back. They’d try and bake a cherry pie as Grandpa used to, with its crimped edges and light, fluffy dough; and they’d laugh when it turned out to be a lumpy mess of congealed sugar and cherries. She’d hug her brother, and tell him she’d make enough money for the both of them, and that the army was for shitheads; just like he’d told her when she’d left. She’d come home and watch the scars of bullet wounds and knife gashes slowly start to fade, and she’d hug her dad, and forget about this awful place.

But then there was that girl. Dorothy remembered her first day assigned to guard prisoner Y-18. Her brittle features were determined to stick in Dorothy’s memory. The peeks Dorothy had gotten of the girl through the bars of her prison cell haunting her periphery. Her too-hollow eyes and her awful smile reminded Dorothy of something raw; something viscerally horrifying. Her clothing was strange as well, a light pink tank top that looked distinctly stained, like the shirt was dyed quickly and cheaply, orange basketball shorts and a skintight black undershirt that looked to be the only form-fitting thing about this girl. Dorothy had watched her braid her stark white hair into a delicate crown, rubbing her hand over the shorn locks in the back. Everything about the girl demanded Dorothy look, remember, question.

“Hey, guard.” She had said, and Dorothy had finally snapped her head toward her, had finally looked her in the eyes.

A rush of revulsion had come over her. The skin over the girl’s left eye had been tattooed over; the number 18 glaring back in stark black ink. Whenever the prisoner blinked, Dorothy could read it almost perfectly. She had noticed it before, but had never allowed herself to dwell on it; never wanted to consider the implications of it. 

“I’m bored.” The prisoner had said, and Dorothy had turned away, unsure what to say or do. She was ordered to keep quiet, not to talk to the prisoner or even interact with her-- but she wanted to know. 

The white-painted brick walls of the cell block had long since yellowed to a muddy pale imitation, the fluorescents casting a dim glow over the girl’s face. Dorothy stared at the dull shine of the steel cell bars.

“Do you smoke?”

Dorothy’s head snapped up, unsure what to make of the question. Why did this girl want to know about Dorothy’s personal smoking habits? Was it some kind of coded message?

“Oy, Mrs. Guard.” The girl was getting up, and some part of Dorothy was surprised that she was able to move with such slippery grace. Some part of her had expected the girl to move in fits and starts, or not be able to move from her cot at all.

“I asked you a question.” The girl was walking-- no, skipping towards Dorothy, crossing the distance quicker than Dorothy had time to react. Her hand had squeezed the hilt of her gun as the girl had reached her hand out through the bars--

“Talk to me---!” The girl wiggled her fingers through the bars and Dorothy bit down a horrified laugh. What was this girl doing?

And then she remembered the head scientist’s orders.

_ “Do not, under any circumstances, let prisoner Y-18 touch any part of your bare skin. She is ruthless, a danger to herself and others. Keep well away.” _

Dorothy jumped back, and the girl’s hand brushed over the air where Dorothy’s leg had been milliseconds prior.

“I-if you touch me... I have orders to shoot!” Her voice sounded wrong, too high and raw, edged with the brittle taste of fear. Her hand was slick with her own sweat as she clenched the hilt of her gun, still safely holstered at her hip.

The girl leaned back on her elbows, and shot Dorothy a look of-- was it smugness? Amusement? Dorothy couldn’t tell. “But I’m bored. And you won’t talk to me!”

Dorothy took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. What was she doing? Was she so scared that she was actually contemplating shooting a child? 

“ _ I’ll just talk to her. _ ” she thought. “ _ She’s just a kid after all. I’m sure she’s just desperate for entertainment.”  _

She sighed and stared at the girl from the corner of her eye. “If I answer your question, will you behave?”

The girl immediately perked up, the number tattooed on her left eye fluttering in and out of full view with each blink. “Yep! No-one’s talked to me in forever. You don’t understand how boring it is to live here.” her eyes were shining, and Dorothy noticed they were a strange color. Before, she was sure they had been a muddy brown. Now-- they looked closer to a deep red. “ _ Just a trick of the fluorescents,” _ she told herself.

“Now,” the girl tilted her head, studying Dorothy with an intense amount of concentration.

“about my previous question. Do you smoke cigarettes?”

Dorothy hesitated for a moment. She still had no idea why the girl was asking her this strange question. “No, I don’t smoke. I don’t drink either, in case you were wondering.” Best to cover all her bases, just in case the girl was trying to-- suss out her weaknesses or something. “Why?”

“Can you start?”

Dorothy furrowed her brow in confusion. Why did the girl want her smoking so badly? “Can I start... smoking cigarettes on the job? No, why?” 

The girl smiled, and again Dorothy had this awful urge to look away from the girl’s raw grin, from the stark black ink of that tattoo. When her eyes were fully open, Dorothy could only see the edges of it, but with every blink it made her stomach recoil. For some reason, it reminded her of the first time she had watched a woman skin a deer pelt, the tug of muscle and tendon as they were roughly scraped away from the skin with a knife.

“No one talks to me.”

The girl paused then, and Dorothy felt the echo of silence descend over the cell block. The other cells in the block were empty. Dorothy tried to imagine it, hours upon days upon weeks simply-- silent. Nothing to listen to but her own breathing, and the breath of whoever was assigned to watch over her.

The girl continued. “No one lets me read, or watch TV. The last entertaining thing anyone did was smoke on the job. That was--” She brought two boney fingers up to her face, and Dorothy noticed that despite the girl’s tall build, her fingers were.. rather short. She had the hands of a child. 

Despite herself, Dorothy stared. “ _ Those don’t look like a killer’s hands.”  _

“It was-- Two guards, so.. ‘bout six hours ago. It’s been so boring.”

Six hours with nothing to do, nothing to look at, and even before that, the only thing to watch had been the paltry entertainment of swirling cigarette smoke. No wonder this girl had been desperate for a conversation. Dorothy swallowed.

“So no-one talks to you? Ever?” 

The girl had been staring at Dorothy intently. Dorothy averted her gaze, brushing a lock of brown hair from her face. Somehow it had gotten free from the tight braids she wore her hair in. The braid’s ribbons tickled the back of Dorothy’s neck, and she suddenly had a terrible urge to swat them back. She felt distinctly  _ observed. _

“Yeah, mmhmm.” the girl twirled a lock of brittle white around her finger. “It’s crazy, right? Apparently, you guards are supposed to “keep contact to a minimum.” She flexed those bony fingers again, accenting the movement, and again, something in Dorothy tensed as she watched the prisoner.

Do you want to know how many different bricks are in this cell?’ The girl seemed content to watch Dorothy and ramble. Dorothy wondered now if this pale girl’s desire for a conversation was simply born of a desire to be seen, after months of being ignored. “I’ve counted them.”

A pale shadow flickered in the corner of Dorothy’s eye, and she whipped her head behind her. In that horrifying second, she was sure she was about to meet the face of one of her fellow guards-- or god forbid that terrifying head scientist-- but no one was there. Just a trick of the light, but now Dorothy’s misplaced confidence was shaken.

She turned back in the direction of the girl’s cell, careful not to let their eyes meet, though her heart felt distinctly heavier. “Actually, I really shouldn’t be talking to you. Excuse me-- ah!”

Again it was a swipe of the girl’s palm, Dorothy barely dodging in time to avoid the swat of her left leg.

“Stop!” Dorothy cried, thrusting her arm out towards the girl, grasping for her gun with her left hand--the wrong hand, since she had always holstered her gun at her right hip. “If you keep trying to attack--- I-I will shoot…” “ _ What am I doing? _ ” she thought wildly. Panic had seized her-- but her reaction now seemed so.. Silly. Again, Dorothy felt the tight grip of shame overtake her. But the girl hardly seemed phased, smiling joyfully at Dorothy.

“But you won’t talk to me--” She said, accentuating her exaggerated tone with a small pout. Dorothy was stuck with the strange thought that, if this girl lived a normal life, she would probably be quite a good actor in comedy plays. “And it’s been yeeeears---” The girl’s mannerisms exaggerating further, and she let out a little giggle. “Since anyone’s talked to me!”

Dorothy personally knew that wasn’t true, in the girl’s file; it had been documented that Experimental subject Y-18 had been transferred to the prison sector two months ago. When she said as much to the girl, however; she didn’t seem to care that she had been caught in an obvious lie. She had simply laughed, tossed her white-haired head, and pointed a finger at Dorothy through the bars of the cell.

“I won’t stop trying to grab your leg until you agree to talk to me! Every day!” The girl’s hard-bright eyes seemed to contrast her steady, happy tone, still watching Dorothy with a methodical concentration. But then she blinked, and the illusion was undone--- she was simply a strange-looking girl in a cell. 

“Trust me--” the girl continued, her tone shaping itself back into that humorous, exaggerated canter. “You don’t wanna get on my bad side. I can be--” She pulled down her eyelids and flexed her elbows in mock intimidation. “Very scary!” She puffed out her chest a little, fixing her gaze on Dorothy, eyelids still pulled down. The girl looked utterly ridiculous, even with the horror of the tattoo on full view. “So it’s better to do what I say, mkay?” 

Despite the absurdity of the situation, Dorothy wanted to burst out laughing. This whole shtick sounded like it belonged in her family’s kitchen, rather than this terrifying military base. This girl was reminding her more and more of her little brother with every passing second, with her ridiculous attempts at humor and her bold, unfiltered tone. It made something in Dorothy ache tremendously. 

“Alright.” Dorothy smiled, resisting the urge to chuckle or cry. “You win. I can see why they keep a menace like you locked up. Just calm down a bit.” The prisoner had been loud, her voice echoing off the painted bricks with every shout. Dorothy didn’t want to be forced to restrain her, or god forbid-- shoot her. She could still hear the wails of that eleven-year-old, the muffled shriek of the guard who had been shot by the head scientist. 

She dropped down to a squat, looking at the girl from eye level. “I really don’t want to be forced to shoot you.” Dorothy heard the ring of sincerity in her own voice, and hoped the girl would notice it.

“Aww.” The girl studied Dorothy again, and her smile seemed to stretch wider, if that was possible. 

“Don’t worry. That gun you have can’t kill me, even if you wanted to.” Again Dorothy had the peculiar sensation that the girl’s eyes were something-- unnatural. Now, gazing at her, she could see that they were a medley of different colors, Red and flashes of pink and orange, a ring of brown at the base. They were the beauty of some poisonous creature, and Dorothy felt shivers run up her spine. But then the girl blinked, and her eyes were again a deep brown, the only trace of those miraculous colors the flecks of orange amongst the dark. 

Dorothy felt a change in the girl’s gaze, and when she spoke again, Dorothy was sure that the girl wasn’t looking at her; but through her. It sent a jolt of fear up her spine. Something in this girl was--- deeply unsettling to gaze upon. 

“I’m quite… experienced with getting shot.” Again, Dorothy was reminded of that carcass in the woods; the thick scrape of meat and tendons as it came undone. 

The girl let out a huff of breath, and attempted a weak smile, but again, Dorothy could tell that this girl was not looking at her, not truly addressing her. “So if you do end up shooting me, I won’t even be mad afterward.”

“ _ Who was this girl? _ ” Dorothy wondered, studying her hard-edged, unsettling features. Her brittle smile had dissolved, her eyes empty and wanting-- what? “ _ No that’s the wrong question. What I should be asking is, what happened to this girl in this terrible place? _ ” She looked terrified, hungry; something in Dorothy still screamed that this brittle girl was something that should be left alone. Some part of her screamed to draw this girl in closer, to tell her everything would be alright.

Dorothy let herself slide to the floor, to sit down and draw her hand away from her gun, to let her hands hug her legs. They were both sitting on the cold brick floor now, gazing at each other, on opposite sides of the bars but neither truly  _ free. _

“Are--you ok?” It was the most she could offer the brittle, white-haired girl. The girl’s expression stayed frozen for a second-- then her head bobbed up with a smile.

“Nope!” Her light, happy tone clashed horribly with the panic-stricken gaze Dorothy had seen painted over her features mere seconds ago; with the horrifying words she had spoken. “ _ I’m quite experienced with getting shot.”  _ Then, something in her expression softened. 

“It’s-- nice of you to care, though.”

Dorothy didn’t know what to say, so she replied with a weak-sounding: “Yeah, no problem.” 

The girl’s features were still softened; no trace of that rough-hewn anguish that had been there mere seconds prior; but there was still something distinctly sad in her tone. “I’ve-- missed talking to people.” 

“Now!” The girl’s tone brightened again. “You agreed to talk to me every day.” She leaned on her elbows and stared at Dorothy. Dorothy noticed that despite her willingness to stick her hands and feet through the bars, her torso and chest never followed suit. Dorothy was willing to bet it was because of the electric immobilizer the prisoners were implanted with. The shocker’s limits were probably set around the cell, trapping the girl inside. As if to prove Dorothy’s hypothesis correct, the girl rubbed a hand across the nape of her neck and smiled. “But I don’t know much about you. What’s your name?”

Dorothy tensed, and hugged her knees tighter. “Do you--need to know?”

The girl simply laughed as if Dorothy had told a good joke. “Relax. I can’t hurt you or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. And no-one’s gonna find out.” She extended her hand through the bars toward Dorothy, as if inviting her into the cell for a nice cup of tea, as if they were two businessmen shaking hands to sign a contract. “So let’s enjoy each other’s company, ok?”

“Well-- in that case.” Dorothy studied her hand, warring with herself. Should she trust this girl? She remembered the head scientist’s order.  _ “Do not let her touch any part of your bare skin.”  _ Could the scientist have simply told her that to place doubt in her head? What could the girl do? If she killed Dorothy, she’d still be stuck in her cell. Dorothy had no way to disable the shocker. 

But when Dorothy finally dropped her hand, it was because she had noticed that those miraculous colors had seemed to resurface in the girl’s hollow eyes. They were mesmerizing, the only living-looking parts of her. But if Dorothy had learned one thing from this place, it was to be afraid. 

“My name is Dorothy.” she had said, as her hand dropped back to her side. She would talk to this girl, she had decided. She would give her the simple human courtesy of conversation. That was all she could give to this hollow, brittle girl, who smiled at her then; with amusement and frank observation. 

The prisoner dropped her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Dorothy. I think we’ll get along splendidly.”

And after that, the dull days stuck at the base grew a little brighter, the harsh edges of life as a guard softened by the conversations with that fascinating girl. Dorothy grew to learn many things about her, and through the stories she told, her fuzzy vision of what Project Spitfire actually was became clearer.

For one, the girl-- prisoner Y-18 did, in fact, have a name. 

“Kai? That’s an unusual name.”

“Is it?” Kai had asked, and Dorothy was stuck with the horrifying understanding that this girl probably had no idea what life was like outside this facility. 

“Well, it’s not strange per se. It’s just-- normally most of the time, people named Kai tend to be men, and I’ve only seen you address yourself as a girl.”

Kai leaned on her elbows and stared up at Dorothy. “You know that animated movie about the superhero? Bee-Man? The man character is named Kai.” She gazed down at her hands and smiled. “I had to fight my best friend over that name. He ended up naming himself after the best friend in the movie, so I guess he forgave me.” 

Dorothy remembered the movie, a B-list flop that for some reason Tyler had dragged her to see when she was 16. They had driven to the small movie theater in town and Tyler had begged her to buy him an expensive box of disgusting, over-buttered popcorn. He had been six at the time, jumping around and dropping kernels all over Pop’s car as they drove home. With a pang, she had realized that Tyler and Kai were almost the same age. 

“Your friend is named Nathanial then? He was my favorite character in the movie-- that part when he got stuck in the super-suit and had to go fight crime while Kai went to go get the supplies to get him out? That was hilarious.” 

Kai’s eyes dimmed, and she bowed her head slightly, and Dorothy immediately knew she had said something wrong. Kai only stopped smiling when Dorothy had messed up. “Sorry I-- I‘m sure you miss him. Being stuck in here and all that.”

Kai smiled at that, and Dorothy had felt a surge of relief. “Yeah. I do miss him.”

Another fascinating thing Dorothy ended up learning about Kai was that she did, in fact, have a younger sister-- or at least someone she called a sister. Apparently, Dorothy reminded Kai of her, a fact Dorothy quickly took offense to, considering Kai herself was nearly ten years her junior.

“How in the hell do I remind you of a 14 year old kid?” Dorothy exclaimed before she could think better of it. It had nearly been a week since these strange conversations had started between Kai and her, and she had grown comfortably at ease with the prisoner. Perhaps  _ too  _ at ease, considering her unprofessional language; but Dorothy had never been one to hold her tongue. “Sorry, that was stupid of me. But seriously-- I thought I’d remind you of someone more mature.”

Kai twirled a lock of her hair around her finger and gazed at Dorothy. The white-haired girl was lying off her cot upside down, still observing Dorothy with that indescribable gaze of hers. “Well you look more similar to her than I do. Her hair is brown---”

“Well yeah and we both also aren’t anemically pale, that doesn't mean I should remind you of her.”

“What’s anemic-- nevermind, though you are right. She really is closer to you in appearance; that’s what I mean. The only thing me and Anya have in common is our eye color. You guys also have similar mannerisms-- don’t look at me like that. You do act pretty childish, Dorothy.”

Dorothy huffed and crossed her arms, and Kai had laughed. Dorothy slid her gaze towards the white-haired girl, arms still crossed in mock-irritation. “Wow. I’m hurt. Truly.”

Kai laughed, picking the paint off the wall with her nail. “Get over it. Do you have any siblings, Dorothy?”

Dorothy tensed. Though she felt much more at ease with the girl since they had first met, she still felt hesitant to share anything about herself. It had become a habit for her in the army to keep her personal life tucked away; the pain of being so far from her family hard to remind herself of, especially since she had been so worried about being killed in action. 

Kai seemed to notice her discomfort. “Nevermind. Ask me more questions, Dorothy. I promise I’m very interesting.”

Dorothy let out a slow sigh, relieved for the change of topic. She gazed down at Kai, letting the amusement that had buoyed her moments before rise back to the surface. “I don’t see how a bored prisoner stuck in a cell could be all that interesting.” She said, seeing the flash of amusement spark to life in Kai’s strange eyes.

Kai’s smile broadened. “Is that a challenge?”

The third thing Dorothy ended up learning about Kai was that she was, in her own strange way, quite hilarious and charming. She could miss quite a lot, and sometimes her behavior was downright strange, but she was full of wonderful stories and humor drier than the middle of a desert. 

It had been nearly a month since she started guarding Kai, and she had grown quite fond of the strange girl, so much so that she would be willing to call the girl her friend. It was uncomfortable to think that she was guarding the girl on the orders of the scientists, but thankfully, Kai was more than willing to entertain her with stories so good that Dorothy could momentarily forget about the hostile nature of their relationship.

“So me and Bernard had already ransacked the kitchen right?.” Kai spread her hands wide, exaggerating her body movements. Kai’s hands seemed to have a manic energy all of their own, constantly moving, their movements explosive yet precise. “And we’re walking out carrying this huge pot--- the thing is full to the brim with chili. It was supposed to feed all us kids for a week. And then you’ll never guess who came walking by---”

Dorothy let out a gasp, hand flying to her face. “Don’t tell me it was--”

“Yeah! Locust! The good doctor herself!”

Dorothy let out a noise that was some horrifying cross between a squeak and a snort. “Oh my god--”

“I thought we were worm food! Bernard and I just froze. Bear in mind we were wearing nothing more than our underwear, tomato sauce all over our faces, covered in baked beans--

The lunchroom was a mess, we had already knocked out like four guards, there was a huge pool of spaghetti water and half-frozen corn kernels oozing from the kitchen--”

Dorothy burst out cackling. “How are you still alive?!”

Kai spread her hands in front of her, shaking her fingers. “Wait-wait... I haven’t even gotten to the best part! So Locust goes to walkie-talkie for the guards, and Bernard grabs the pot and starts sprinting at her--”

Dorothy gasped. “No--”

“And with this ungodly amount of strength-- just chucks this huge pot of chili directly on her and slams into her! Knocked them both to the ground, and Bernard lands on top of her--”

“Holy shit--- and what happened next?”

Kai’s ridiculous grin was downright infectious. “But that’s not even the best part--”

“There’s more?”  
So the floor is super wet right? And the two of them end up sliding like around 15 feet down the corridor---”

Dorothy clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god--”

“So like 20 trainees in my year just looked up from sparring to see the scariest woman in the entire building, absolutely drenched in chili, corn and spaghetti water, skidding into the wall of the gym with a half-naked kid on top of her. Bernard was the hero of our year for as long as--”

Kai’s expression clouded, the amusement winking out of her eyes like a too-dim star. Her smile softened slightly, sadness seeping back into her brittle frame.

“I’ve told this story to Anya so many times, especially when I was younger. She never believed me when I told her though. I think she was always too scared of Locust to properly laugh at her.”

Dorothy noticed the change in Kai’s expression, did not know how to adjust for it. So she smiled. “I know I shouldn’t laugh at my boss but man--I would've paid good money to see it. Maybe then I wouldn't be so terrified of that woman.” She shivered. It was hard to adjust the comical idea of a woman drenched in chilli and spaghetti water with the terrifyingly cruel image she had of Locust, the way she had ordered Dorothy to hand over her gun-- the guard’s body falling to the floor with a sickening thump.

Kai still avoided Dorothy’s gaze, her eyes glazed over. “Yeah.” she had said, her smile slowly fading. “Bernard was always the class clown of our year. I think he was a menace as soon as he was out of diapers.”

Dorothy was stuck then with the desire to do  _ more  _ for this lonely girl. Her jovial smile had faded, and without it, she truly did look like a corpse, like the raw, unsettling thing Dorothy had seen her as on that first day in the cell. 

But Dorothy knew now, after hours of conversation and camaraderie, that this girl was not a living corpse or a horrifying thing. She was not a killer, she couldn't be. She was simply a girl, her brittle edges sharpened into grotesque points by years of unforgivably horrible treatment. The tattoo over her eye commanded attention now, and Dorothy wondered if she had carried that horrifying mark since infancy, or if it had been some kind of punishment. 

Dorothy wanted to help her in whatever little way she could.

“You know--” Dorothy’s voice warbled, but she pressed on. “I know the prison sector doesn’t allow visitors, but do you want me to see if I can get him to pay you a visit? Off the record of course. I know you’re probably missing your friends.”

It had been the wrong thing to say. Kai stiffened, and Dorothy was horrified to see a tear seep from one of her hollow eyes, before the girl bowed her head, hiding her face from view.

“Did-- I say something wrong?”

Kai wiped her face with her hand. “No-- it’s just. Bernard’s… well he’s dead. Been dead for quite a few years, actually.”

“Oh I--”

“I’m sorry I…” Kai turned away and Dorothy wanted to reach through the bars-- to console her-- to apologize, to do  _ something _ .. “I’m going to go to bed now. Your shift is almost over anyway.”

Dorothy took a deep breath as Kai slowly walked to the cot in her cell.

“My brother’s-- his name is Tyler.”

Kai turned towards Dorothy then. Her face was red with tears, and more leaked weakly from her hollow eyes. Her eyes were those bright miraculous colors, that deep, unnatural red; but for the first time, Dorothy wasn’t afraid of them. 

“He’s ten years younger than me-- half brother, technically. He’s probably around your age. I call him Toto. You know, like that super old movie-- Wizard of Oz?”

Kai weakly brushed a hand across her face, wiping her tears “Like Dorothy and Toto--”

“He and I-- we used to fight a lot. He doesn’t like the military much. Honestly, I started calling him Toto because he hates that movie--- but. It’s been two years since I was shipped out for my service. I almost died twice in these two years, and every time I did, my first thought was that I needed to live-- so I could apologize to him. So, I know it might ring hollow, but.. I understand. Missing him. Missing them.”

Kai’s face was deathly pale, her posture rigid, all trace of her sadness gone. Her eyes were clear, despite the puffy circles around them, and in that moment; her tattoo looked less like ink than a festered, open wound.

“So let me out.”

“What?”

Kai moved, quicker than Dorothy had realized she could move-- gripping the bars of the cell with white-knuckled hands. “Please-- Let me out. Anya’s somewhere in the prison. She’s all I have left. I just need to see her-- if you just open the cell--”

“But the immobilizer--”

Kai gritted her teeth together. “I don’t care about the immobilizer-- I’ll get through the pain-- I’ll crawl on my hands and knees if I have to--” 

Dorothy took a step back. “I can’t let you do that. The electricity will stop your heart if you stay outside the cell too long--”

“FUCK that! I can get shot without a scratch, I can survive my heart stopping-- “

“I CAN’T!” Dorothy screamed. 

Kai’s eyes widened, as if just noticing the fear on Dorothy’s face. “I won’t hurt you, Dorothy, I promise I won’t… just let me out... Please.”

“I know you won’t-- but…”

Kai stared at her for a moment, and then started to chuckle, the sound dry and rattling and inhuman. “But they will. The scientists will shoot you, and your fellow guards will watch. All you duty-bound assholes are the same.” She slammed her small, delicate hands against the steel bars with every word, and Dorothy flinched back. “Let. Me. See. My. Sister!”

Dorothy felt an overwhelming sadness overtake her. What was she doing? “ _ You are choosing your own life over her suicidal plan. _ ” A voice inside her whispered. “ _ With the immobilizer active, she won’t reach the end of the cell block, let alone find her sister.” _ Dorothy bowed her head. She had reached the end of what she could do to help Kai. When she was out of this dreadful place she’d do something, tell people-- force the government to acknowledge the horrors of this place. But for now, there was nothing she could do.

“I’m sorry.” it was all she could offer this brittle, broken girl. “I get discharged in three months. I’ll leave the key with you after my last shift.” Dorothy grasped the bars. Kai wasn’t touching her, but with the girl’s speed, Dorothy knew that Kai could easily grab her arm at any time. Hopefully, it would be enough for Kai to trust her. “Just wait until I leave, please.”

She was lying out of her ass, of course. The guards had one key per cell, and Dorothy would need to give it to the next guard after her shift. Hopefully, Kai and her sister could hold on until she was safely out of the army’s service.

“ _ I’ll come back for you.”  _ She thought as she turned away. She took one last glance at Kai, studied her features as if for the first time. She was so young, so terrifying, and so fragile, like a girl sculpted out of knife-sharp glass. Dorothy surveyed the cell block in front of her, the gray cot, the muddy yellow wall peeling to reveal dusty brown, the one discolored brick sticking halfway out the wall. This was the world she would subject Kai to, if only for a little longer. Dorothy’s heart was impossibly heavy. Kai didn’t deserve to be here. 

But then again, neither did Dorothy.

As she walked out of the cell, her heart still heavier than she’d ever felt, she realized that throughout the entire exchange, she had never placed a hand on her gun. 

“ _ You moved up from potential child murderer to compulsive liar. Good job Dorothy.”  _ Tyler’s voice in her head. He always had attained a higher moral compass than her. She started to chuckle, and a few wet tears slid down her face, staining her olive military jacket. What was she doing?

A muffled boom sounded, and Dorothy’s fingers flexed as she reached for her gun instinctively.

The gun that wasn’t safely holstered at her belt. The gun that was nowhere to be found. The gun that could have easily been taken off her belt when she was gripping the bars, begging Kai’s forgiveness.

The color drained from Dorothy’s face. What had she just done?

14 counts of murder. Extremely unstable and dangerous. Those inhuman eyes. Who had she just left to die at Kai’s hands?

Could the next guard have come in early? Could it be a scientist? Dorothy was already sprinting back to Kai’s cell block, feet thumping on the pavement floor. She wasn’t sure what she could do to stop Kai, but Dorothy could talk her down, tell her she would help her-- she needed to help her, she needed to stop her…

Dorothy skidded to a halt at the entrance to Kai’s cell block. She could smell blood. “ _ Kai, what have you done?” _

Dorothy pulled her knife from her pocket as she rounded the corner. It would nothing against a gun, but---

A sob lodged in her throat as she gazed into Kai’s cell. She placed a shaking hand on the wall to steady herself, but recoiled instantly when she noticed the blood pooling around her boots:

Kai was lying at the back edge of her cell, the gun still clasped tightly in her left hand. Her braided crown was loose, white hair spilling over the floor and matting with the blood pooling around her. Dorothy couldn’t see the wound, but she was already moving-- even though she knew it must already be too late. A low sob built in her throat, hot tears pressing against her eyes-- why had Kai done this? 

Dorothy fumbled with the key and pulled the door open, running to Kai’s side. She dropped to her knees, head swimming with panic. She needed to save this girl, Kai couldn’t die, not when Dorothy had been so selfish--

Then she noticed the second wound on her neck. Two perfect gashes and a missing chunk of flesh where the immobilizer had been. The knife clutched in the girl’s left hand. 

Dorothy took in the discolored brick, now fully out of the wall, exposing a perfect storage space for Kai to put any object she had pocketed from the guards. In that moment of blind terror, she wondered if it had been the guard who smoked cigarettes who hadn’t reported their knife missing.

Kai’s forehead was pristine, despite the gore, matted hair, and blood around it. Dorothy gasped as the wound on the back of Kai’s neck seemed to knit together before her very eyes. 

Kai had cut the immobilizer from her own neck, then shot herself to lure Dorothy back into the cellblock, to get her to open the door.

It had worked. The immobilizer was gone. And the door to the cell was open.

“ _ What have I just done?” _

Kai’s eyes opened, those miraculous colors shining back at Dorothy’s horror-stricken face. In the space of a breath, Kai was behind her, pressing the nozzle of the gun against Dorothy’s head.

“Why?” Dorothy croaked, her tears falling hot and fast, mixing with the blood on the floor, Kai pressed the gun further into Dorothy’s head, forcing her forehead to touch the blood-slick concrete.

When she spoke, Kai’s tone was not jovial or sad. She did not gloat or exaggerate. If Dorothy was willing to give a guess to her expression, it would’ve probably been that same stark, unsettling darkness she had seen earlier that night, the girl’s brittle edges trimmed razor-sharp.

“If it was me or your brother, who would you pick?”

And then Dorothy understood.

“M-my brother-- Kai... I’m sorry. Please--”

Kai laughed coldly, pressing the gun harder into Dorothy’s skull with every word. “Yeah, I knew. You’re a shit liar. You would’ve never left your key with me--- not when you still have something to live for. It was me or you-- I think we both knew that. Well, guess what Dorothy! I have something to live for too!”

Dorothy wailed. She was shaking badly. She was so afraid; it had never felt like this on the front, like it was personal. When she had been shot before, it had come out of nowhere. When she had killed people in the field, she had never been able to look them in the eyes. 

“ _ But does it matter?” _ That voice in her head, Tyler’s voice, whispered to her. “ _ They’re still dead because of you, and now you will die because of her.” _

“Kai--” She could barely speak through her tears. “I’m sorry--please...”

She was begging now, begging for her life despite knowing it was over. Why was she still begging? 

“No.” said Kai. “No, you aren’t sorry. And you shouldn’t be. I’m not sorry either. But don’t worry. You’ve done your job well. Neither of us are going to escape this prison.”

“What--”

“I’m not going to escape!” Kai said angrily. “Anya will. She’s somewhere in this prison. I’ll set her free in a new life, and we can both rot in this cell together!”

Dorothy could see it then, the two of them, herself a corpse, Kai barely more than one. They’d live on this side of the bars together, and Kai would have a wonderful new doll to chat at. Dorothy screwed her eyes shut, waiting for the end to come. Her fingers still twitched, her body screaming at her to fight back, to run, to do anything;

“You are such a wonder, Dorothy,” Kai said, and Dorothy wanted to sob at the softness in her tone. “I can’t imagine how bored I would’ve been if you hadn’t come along. But unfortunately--”

Dorothy could hear the boom rattle through her skull, could feel the pain like it was a living thing, the only living thing about her. Desperately, she thought;

“ _ I wish I could tell him I’m sorry.” _

As her body went slack, she could see Kai recoil, see her eyes flash, those miraculous colors drawing her in.

Dorothy felt herself fall into a sea of blood-red and brilliant orange.

She had always believed she was good at making friends. It only seemed fitting her life should end at the hands of one.

  
  



End file.
